


The Little Heart

by twelvicity (Rii)



Series: Little Bears and Little Hearts [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bottom Iron Bull, Fatherhood, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Planned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Queer Families, Top Dorian Pavus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rii/pseuds/twelvicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian Pavus would want to start a family, if he had the means, but men typically can't have children with other men, and adoption doesn't go over well in altus families.  As it turns out, qunari are very flexible when it comes to reproduction, and Bull wants to give Dorian what he needs.  Yes, even if this means that Bull has to have the children.  Especially, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was largely inspired by the absolutely devastating "[no quarter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4241766)" by [neomeruru](http://archiveofourown.org/users/neomeruru/pseuds/neomeruru), in which Bull and Dorian have a particularly traumatic brush with parenthood. I wanted to give them a better possibility, and this resulted.

The children were conspiring against him.  Dorian was sure of this, now, given how many of them were toddling about and _staring_ at him as they passed by in the arms of others.  
  
It was the first spring after the closing of the Breach, and that meant both a new surge of pilgrims and their families, and people visiting extant family at Skyhold, and the products of winter intimacy arriving as if on schedule.  In the case of the latter, it was mostly a combination of the cold and the possibility of the end of the world or the sudden realization that maybe the world would be fine and a family wouldn’t seem so improbable.  It depended on the person.  
  
Regardless of the circumstances, there was an absurdly large presence of children now at Skyhold.  Dorian tried not to let it affect him.  He had other, more important things to do.  Like studying.  And reading.  And trying to shoo off the collected gawkers in the library staring at the metal bits on his shoes.  And finding a book that was a bit more interesting for them to listen to.  And resisting the terrible tugging at his heartstrings that came with one of the mothers finding the children clustered around his feet and telling them that she’d been looking for them everywhere and dinner was getting cold.  It took him so many ounces of strength not to tell the children he’d be back the next day to finish the story.  
  
He could allow himself to be all mushy and soft in private, but when he was being witnessed it was like waging a small war with himself.  He was at Skyhold for Important Inquisition Reasons and he had appearances to maintain.   
  
Though, that rather fell apart when one took Bull into account.  He was certainly not an Inquisition Reason but Dorian held to him all the same.  Sure, maybe he was being selfish, but Bull wasn’t exactly a distraction.  He always seemed to get in and out of the way at just the right times.  That was part of his charm.  
  
Which was why Dorian knew he shouldn’t have been surprised when Bull began to notice.  “Did you ever want to have kids, kadan?”  
  
The evening had been still, otherwise, with Dorian resting in the crook of Bull’s arm as he read a book on their bed.  He looked up to answer.  “Excuse me?”  
  
“Like, if you had the means - I don’t know, adoption, maybe - would you want to raise a family?” Bull said.  
  
A hot flutter of want stirred in Dorian’s chest.  “What brought this on?” he said.  
  
“Oh, I’ve seen how you are with all the kids running around, lately.”  
  
“And…?”  
  
“You seem very happy when you’re looking after them.  And you’re very good with them, too.”  
  
“If you’re trying to flatter me you’re going for the wrong part of my ego,” Dorian said, pretending to return to his book.  
  
“I’m not.  Just making an observation, and asking a question,” Bull said.  
  
Dorian sighed, and he closed the book.  “Putting aside my… personal feelings on the matter, it’s simply not a... feasible situation,” he said.  “Men can’t have children with men, and I’ve a feeling that house Pavus wouldn’t care much for adoption, with the bloodline and all that.  Could always make an exception, but it’s unlikely.  No matter.”  
  
“That’s not an issue with qunari."  
  
Dorian gave Bull a slightly annoyed glance.  Bull didn’t usually say those sorts of things, not usually.  “I imagine it’s hard to have such issues when there are no families to begin with,” Dorian replied, only half-feeling the sarcasm.  
  
“That’s not what I mean,” Bull said.  “More to do with the men having children with men thing.”  
  
Dorian blinked as he processed.  “I’m... sorry, I’m not quite sure I heard you right.”  
  
“Okay, so, technically, qunari like me are born with one set of equipment more dominant than the other,” Bull said, in his conversational, this-is-how-things-go voice, “but if they’re suited to a particularly male or female role, there’s these medicines the tamassrans can prescribe to make them more… male or female.  The equipment doesn’t go _away,_ but it helps develop the second set.  Doesn’t really work with other races, kind of like vitaar, but…”  
  
Dorian sat up, a little away from Bull’s arm.  Bull moved accordingly.  “And… this has to do with children… how?” he said, cautiously.  
  
“Well, I’m just saying that, if you wanted kids of your own - like all related by blood and everything, if that’s important to you - I could do that for you.”  
  
A strange sensation settled on Dorian, like he was just slightly too big for his skin and his chest couldn’t hold it all in.  “Are you… serious?”  
  
“Wouldn’t be bringing it up if I wasn’t.”  
  
“This is honestly something you can do?  No… blood magic or anything like that?”  
  
“...no?  I mean, I’ll have to eat a bunch of nasty shit for a few months, but that’s about it,” Bull said.  
  
“I’m… I, just… uh…”  Dorian tried to move forward, but his mind was stuck on three particularly persistent images.  The first was… where in the world Bull’s other “equipment” was, especially considering how very… impressive his equipment was in the first place.  The second was what in the world Inquisitor _Adaar_ had going on, especially since she was an incredibly awkward flirt.  
  
(As it turned out, very largely nothing, since she grew up without tamassrans and had nobody to tell her that she could stand to be more male just because she was very good at smashing things with mauls.  Didn’t stop Sera from giggling furiously at her “hyena-bits” when they fell into Adaar’s bed together.  And insisting on playing with said hyena-bits.  It was a very exciting and confusing time for Adaar in general.)  
  
But the third was… children.  His own children.  With Bull.  A future.  
  
“I mean, I won’t do it if the thought makes you uncomfortable.” Bull was continuing on, a little softly.  “I’m fine with how we are now, and if you’re more interested in adopting-”  
  
“You can… honestly do this for me…” Dorian was almost whispering from the size of his smile.   “I can have _children_ with you.”  
  
“Yes, kadan.”  
  
Dorian covered his mouth with his hands, feeling hot half-tears in his eyes.  “I don’t know if I could possibly love you more.”  
  
“Stop it, you’re making me blush,” Bull said, managing to sound quite serious despite leaning in to nuzzle against Dorian’s shoulder.  “If you need this, I’ll be happy to prepare.”  
  
“I’ll think about it.  I’ll let you know.”  Dorian didn’t ask any more questions, that night, just letting the warmth of the strange, beautiful new reality settle over him.  
  
\--  
  
The next two years proceeded with a great deal of careful discussion and no small amount of awkward joy.  Dorian didn’t want to rush into things, even though Bull told him that he had plenty of time to start taking the medicine and for them to get their affairs in order, clearing space in their lives for the possibilities ahead.  Nothing was guaranteed, but both of them liked to feel like there was at least some sort of plan in place.  
  
Dorian did find himself surprised at how very little Bull seemed to change, after he’d been taking the medicine long enough for things to be “ready.”  Bull complained about his chest feeling a little tender, eventually going without his usual harness and groaning slightly when Dorian shifted too much of his weight on his upper chest when they settled in for bed.  Krem made a few jokes, which Bull more than allowed, but he stayed oddly and respectfully distant from it afterwards.  
  
He was also a little more irritable, but Dorian attributed that to Bull’s odd and sudden temperance for drink.  “Tamassran… thing I learned,” Bull explained, when Dorian asked him about it.  “Apparently, wine and ale make for feeble-minded offspring.  So I might as well get used to going without for a while.”  
  
“If you suffer, I suffer with you,” Dorian said.  “May not one drop of wine grace my lips until we succeed.”  
  
“Just get me some damn... ugh, apple juice or something, will you?” Bull replied.  
  
And then there was the other equipment - which Bull was happy to show Dorian one afternoon, pantsless and bent over the bed on his knees - was barely noticeable: a series of wrinkled folds behind his testicles, only parting for entry when probed with a finger or… well, the more intended instrument for the purpose.  He was otherwise still very much… how he was before.  And his conduct in bed certainly wasn’t suffering, as far as Dorian was concerned.  
  
Whenever Dorian was ready, Bull told him.  He could take all the time he needed.  
  
Dorian had to write a letter before he could continue in any good conscience.  It was short, and a little vague, and addressed to his father.  It concerned matters of inheritance and appointment, and the possibility of a family in his future - as something he was considering, nothing more.  He sent it off and, without waiting for an answer, told Bull he was ready.  
  
What surprised him most was not the experience of being on top of Bull for once - Bull had been letting him practice, in the weeks leading up, with frustratingly arousing praise.  It was Bull’s response to him being there that night.  There were tiny shudders and spasms in his movements that Dorian never felt before, and Bull was groaning long before he even climaxed.  
  
Dorian stopped, at one point.  “Are you all right? Am I hurting you?” he said, balancing himself on the small of Bull’s back with his hand.  
  
“You’re touching my…”  Bull groaned again, the muscles of his thighs tensing.  “Come on, kadan, keep going…”  
  
Dorian rarely, if ever, went against one of Bull’s commands.  He continued on, and felt an odd satisfaction at the volume of Bull’s moaning when he came.  
  
“What _was_ it I was doing that was getting you so _excited?_ ” Dorian asked him, lightly, as they lay together afterward.  
  
“I _told_ you,” Bull said, “when you go in that way, you end up touching… _something_.  Like at the base of my dick.  It feels _really_ good.”  He put a bit of a growl on the word “really,” and it made Dorian laugh, relaxing just that little bit more.   
  
Bull wasn’t nearly so loud, the next few times, and after a certain point, Dorian had to ask.  “So… how will we know if it’s _worked_ or not?”  
  
“Oh, it should.”  
  
“Yes, but… how do you _know_?”  
  
“Well, we wait a few months, and if nothing’s bleeding or moving around, we try again.”  
  
“...bleeding?”  
  
They were in bed.  Again.  Of course.  And Bull responded immediately to the uncomfortable air in Dorian’s voice by sitting up slightly.  “Sometimes things just don’t take,” he said.  “I’ll be fine, if that’s what happens.  But it shouldn’t.”  
  
“I wish I could share your confidence…”  Dorian’s voice had gone very quiet.   
  
How curious it was, that the actual weight of what they were doing together, why they were doing it, only seemed to fall upon him at the prospect of _losing_ whatever little thing they created.  Before it even had a chance to be a thing in the first place.  
  
Bull put his hand against Dorian’s ear, gently cradling the curve of his jaw.  “It won’t happen,” he said.  “When I do anything for you, kadan, I _always_ follow through.  It won’t happen.”  
  
Dorian hugged him, held him, too shaken for a kiss.  
  
\--  
  
Several months after he and Dorian began their preparations, Bull came to the table for dinner with a closed-mouth smile on his face.  
  
He’d been conspicuously absent for most of the afternoon, and Dorian was suspicious.  “What’s got you all cheery?” he said, as Bull sat down next to him.  
  
“Mutton pie!  It’s _always_ a good day when you can have pie,” Bull said, gesturing to a plate of them not far away.  “It’s good shit.”  
  
“Really.”  Dorian chuckled.  
  
“ _Well_ , that, and I went to talk to Stitches today,” Bull continued.  “He’s got this little… ear-horn thing he uses to check on lungs and stuff.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yep.  And heartbeats.”  
  
“Fascinating,” Dorian said.  His eyebrows were thoroughly furrowed.  “And what is… particularly entertaining about it?”  
  
“Well, I had him check me out.  And he found a heartbeat.”  
  
“Well, I’d expect so, given that you’re not a…”  _Corpse_ , Dorian was going to continue, before the realization overrode his thoughts.  “Wait.  Heartbeat.  You mean…”  
  
“Whatever’s in the works in here has a strong, healthy heartbeat,” Bull said.  “Yes.”  
  
There was so much excitement and warmth and raw love on Bull’s face that Dorian lunged over and hugged him with such force that Sera started yelling at them to get a room.  
  
Sera, in truth, was one of the few people _more_ excited than Dorian at the idea of the Iron Bull having a baby, which they explained after Dorian let go of Bull.  “You’re gonna get _so_ _fat_ ,” she said, snort-laughing, not long after she heard the news.  
  
“ _So_ fat,” Bull replied.  
  
She ended up a little disappointed, in the end, because Bull didn’t seem to gain much weight as the year passed, his existing bulk largely absorbing the growing burden and barely swelling at all.  But that didn’t stop her from using his belly as a canvas on occasion, usually to draw crude mustachioed faces on them.  “‘Cos it’s Dorian’s little thing in there, yeah?” she explained, in one instance.  “Gotta make sure everyone knows it.”  
  
The rest of Skyhold was either completely oblivious or confused about the whole matter.  This was more or less how most people felt about them as a couple in general, so it was nothing new.  
  
And Dorian, well, he worried.  Constantly.  
  
Bull had long since declared a leave of absence from mercenary work, so that wasn’t an issue.  And Bull was by all accounts quite healthy, so that wasn’t an issue either.  It was the terrifying, uncertain vastness of the future, and what in the world would come next.  
  
(His father hadn’t written back to him. But his father hadn’t written to him in a long time.)  
  
There were hints at a structure, things to carry them forward.  A crib was obtained and put in Dorian and Bull’s bedroom.  Bull taught Dorian and some of the kitchen staff how to make an ambiguously sweet milk-mixture that tamassrans used to nurse infants in the absence of their biological mothers.  Krem began making baby clothes, humming cheerfully as he went, since it had been a while since he’d had an excuse to make clothes for anyone.  
  
All this, and Dorian struggled with the sudden conviction that he was making a horrible mistake and he wasn’t meant to be a parent and he should have taken the hint.  He liked to be with men!  Men typically could not reproduce with each other!  So, why should he go against it all and try?  
  
He would then hear Bull’s low, warm voice in his mind - _emphasize the “typically,” kadan_ \- and a marginal calm would layer over him.  Bull _was_ in his life, and he was _not_ a typical man, no.  Yet the doubt remained, at once benign and uncomfortable, like knowing when he was dreaming.  
  
But the world kept on being real.  
  
\--  
  
The first time Dorian felt the child kick was an accident.  He was curled into, around Bull’s body, warm enough that the sheet had fallen off them both and he hadn’t noticed.  He breathed, slowly and calmly, with his eyes closed, but he was not asleep.  
  
And, then: just beneath his arm, against a side of his chest, he felt a little nudge from under the skin.  
  
He opened his eyes, but didn’t move.  There was no other movement beyond Bull’s chest rising and falling as he slept, so he thought perhaps it was the twinge of a muscle.  And then it happened again, more insistent, the sweep of a foot or an elbow.  
  
Dorian sat up, slightly, his breath suddenly shallow, caught in his throat.  He put his hand where he’d felt the movement, and another flutter followed.   
  
For some reason, he laughed.  A small laugh, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to get Bull to stir.  “Everything all right, Dorian?”  His voice was rough with sleep.  
  
Words made shortcuts of themselves as Dorian tried to articulate the airy, warm, creeping feeling in his throat. “That’s a - baby!” he said.  
  
“I should hope so,” Bull said, his shoulders tensing as he stretched and sat up a little.  
  
“I felt it _moving_ , Bull!”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“Has it - kicked before?   Like that?”  
  
“A little bit, but nothing worth shouting you over for,” Bull said.  “Honestly I thought it was just gas for a while.  Not exactly something I’m familiar with.”  
  
Dorian heard the words in a vague sense, letting them float through his thoughts.  He couldn’t stop smiling.  
  
Bull put his hand on Dorian’s, and smiled a little in return.  “It _is_ pretty amazing, though.  Isn’t it, kadan?” he said.  
  
“ _You’re_ amazing,” Dorian replied, joyful delirium saturating his voice.  
  
Bull gave a sigh that was more like a laugh, and put his hand on Dorian’s cheek.  “Let’s get back to bed.”  
  
“Okay.  Yes, okay.”  Dorian’s words were a little hurried, but his mind and his breathing slowed as he set himself against the familiar shape and warmth of Bull’s body, and the new, strange, wonderful movements under his arm.  
  
\--  
  
“You know, it’s only _just_ occurred to me that I have no idea what we’re going to name it.”  
  
They seemed to be having a lot of conversations in bed, lately, though both of them supposed it came with the territory.  It was a private place, and they’d be relaxed, and words came easily, then.  
  
Dorian’s hand was on Bull’s stomach, which also came with the territory.  He had begun reading books one-handed so that he could feel any tiny stir that came up, and the pleasant, vague sense of pride and happiness that came with it.   
  
“Yeah?  Got any ideas?”  
  
“Well, it depends on if we have a son or a daughter.”  Dorian let the words and what they meant settle, tight and happily anxious, in his chest.  “Er, will they... have the same ‘equipment’ situation as you, though?”  
  
“Yeah, but one’s gonna be dominant.  We’ll be able to tell,” Bull said.  “Boys got their balls outside, girls got theirs inside.  Pretty simple.”  
  
“Right…”  Dorian drummed his fingers on Bull’s skin, and felt a gentle flutter in return.  “Well… if we have a son, I _probably_ won’t be using my _own_ father’s name…”  
  
“It’s kind of an ugly name, anyways.  _Hal_ ward.  Too broad, for my taste.”  
  
Dorian laughed dismissively.  “If you say so.  I do… rather like Felix, though.”  
  
“After your friend?”  Dorian looked up at Bull, and his face was open, neutrally kind.  “I read reports.  It would be a nice tribute, kadan.  Plus - my Tevene’s a little rusty, but doesn’t it mean ‘lucky’ or something?”  
  
“Happy,” Dorian corrected.  
  
“Right, right.  Yeah, Happy’s a good name for a kid, I guess,” Bull said.  “Could go a lot worse.”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“How about girls?” Bull said.  
  
“Oh… _that_ I’m having difficulty with,” Dorian said.  “Nothing comes to mind, and if I borrowed from Cassandra or Vivienne or - Maker forbid - _Sera,_ they’d find a way to _ruin_ it in some way or another.”  
  
“Aw, even Vivienne?” Bull said.  “That’s a nice name, Vivienne.  Lively.  And she’d owe you forever for it.”  
  
“Exactly,” Dorian said.  He sighed.  “What about you?  Any ideas?”  
  
“What, me?” Bull said.  Dorian nodded.  “Uh… you’re honestly asking the wrong guy.”  
  
“The wrong guy?” Dorian said.  “Last I checked, you were the one _carrying_ the dear thing.  I’d say you have _every_ right to contribute.”  
  
“No, no,” Bull said, “I’m a _qunari_.  We don’t _do_ names, remember?”  
  
Dorian let the silence last for a thoughtfully long time.  “You managed to name yourself when you came here,” he finally said.   
  
“Well, yeah,” Bull said.  “Because I know what I’m about.  The horns and everything.  Looks like a bull.”  
  
“Yes, yes, very imaginative,” Dorian said.  “So… just do the same thing, but for a son or a daughter.”  
  
“Really, you should be asking someone else,” Bull said, an apologetic smile on his face.  “I’m sure Adaar could come up with better ones than me.”  
  
“Oh, come on, it’s not that difficult!” Dorian said, sitting up, frowning slightly.  “Look, here, I’ll give it a go.  Cassius, Lavinia, Gaius…  Anything can be a name!  That scout, the dwarf one - Harding?  Her name is _Lace_ , for pity’s sake.”  
  
Bull’s silence settled gently on Dorian, cooling his head and aching at his heart.  
  
“You can choose the name, Dorian,”  Bull said, at almost too fine a time.  “This is your child, so you should decide what you’ll call them.”  
  
“...your child too, Bull,” Dorian said.  Again, Bull didn’t respond.  “Amatus, please, what is this about?”  
  
Bull shook his head.  “I can’t name something I don’t know, kadan,” he said.  
  
Dorian didn’t reply, not immediately.  Bull’s discomfort was a heavy, difficult shell to penetrate.  
  
“...now, see here,” Dorian finally said, almost firmly, taking Bull’s left hand.  “I’d say you know it quite well already, given where it is.  There have to be _some_ things you can draw from.  If I have to name my son Arse-Kicker Pavus because of this, I will!  I am not kidding.”  
  
There, yes, Bull laughed, and Dorian’s anxiety eased just that little bit.  “Would be fitting,” Bull said.  “It _does_ like to kick a lot.  A very active and… eager.  Eager is a word I would use.”  
  
“As a name?”  
  
“As a… thing I can draw from.”  Bull looked down in thought.  “Arcturus.”  
  
“Where did _that_ come from?” Dorian said, almost laughing, himself.   
  
“Like a bear, you know?  Bears are tough. Physical.  That might work,” Bull said.  
  
“You go for _bear_ and not _dragon_?” Dorian said.  “For goodness’ sakes, amatus.”  
  
“The word for dragon in Vint-speak is too much like the common tongue,” Bull explained.  “Naming a kid… I don’t know, Draconus?  It sounds pretentious, too.”  
  
“I don’t think I even _know_ any Draconuses,” Dorian said, silently conceding that, yes, it did sound pretentious.  
  
“So you go for something nice and Vinty.  Arcturus.  I like the way it kinda… hits the air, bam,” Bull said.  “Arc-TOO-rus.  That’s a name with clout.”  
  
“I’ll add that to the list, then,” Dorian said.  He smiled, warmly, and settled back into the crook of Bull’s arm, his own arm returning to Bull’s stomach and the possible-Arcturus within.  He felt Bull relax as well, and worry rushed out of him like water.  “How about a girl, then?” Dorian continued.  
  
“Embrium.”  The answer was almost instant.  
  
Dorian’s reply wasn’t.  He squinted as his thoughts jumped through loops of logic.  “... _Embrium_.”  
  
“Lots of people name girls after flowers, and that’s a damn useful flower.”  
  
Dorian scoffed fondly.  “You’re right, I should ask someone else about names.”  
  
“See, didn’t I tell you?”  
  
“Repeatedly.”  
  
Dorian settled deeper in, breathing in, and out.  “What did they call you?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“When _you_ were a child.”  
  
Bull sighed. “You want the long or the short answer?”  
  
“Short, if you must.”  
  
“Imekari.  Just means child.  Everyone was called Imekari.”  
  
“And that’s it?”  
  
“That’s it.”  
  
“Imekari…”  Dorian slowly tasted the name, and its syllables.  “Surprisingly lovely.  I’ll add _that_ to the list.”  
  
“Kadan, seriously?”  
  
“What!  You tell me you’d name our daughter after a _herb_ , then by all means I have the right to name my child _Child_ , thank you,” Dorian said.  “Imagine how easy that would be, though?  ‘Come here, Child!’  Simple to remember.”  
  
“Fair point.”  Bull yawned, but it was clear from his tone that he knew Dorian was just teasing.  “There was also... Ashkaari.  As a name that was used.”  
  
“Ashkaari?” Dorian said.  “That’s… ‘dragon,’ right?”  
  
“ _That_ is ataashi,” Bull said, patiently.  “Ashkaari means… something along the lines of ‘one who seeks.’”  
  
“Ah.  Might as well name the child Cassandra, then,” Dorian concluded.  
  
“Not that kind of Seeker, kadan,” Bull said.  
  
“Well, I know that!  Let me have a bit of fun, will you?”  
  
“ _I_ think you should have a bit of _sleep,”_ Bull replied.   
  
“Fine, fine,” Dorian said.  He batted his hand, sighing.  “Still, seeker of things?  Is that what they call you when you’re… training or being educated or something like that?”  
  
“Sure, let’s go with that,” Bull said, just a little too light for Dorian to notice.  
  
“Mm.  Ashkaari.”  Dorian reached for one of the blankets and pulled it over the two of them.  “I think I like Imekari better.”  
  
“Makes more sense, too,” Bull said.  He yawned again.  “Got a while to decide, though.”  
  
“Mm.  Blow the candle out, will you?”  
  
Bull did so.  “Goodnight, kadan.”  
  
“Goodnight, amatus.”  
  
And in the quiet dark, some time later, there was a gentle whisper, soft with love.  “Goodnight, my precious imekari,” Dorian said, in a voice he hoped Bull wouldn’t hear.  
  
(But Bull heard it, and his heart ached with affection and pride for the one who owned it.)  
  
\--  
  
It had to have been the cheese.  It had been too sour to be good, even though there wasn’t any mold on it, and it hadn’t added _anything_ to the sausage Bull ate it with.  Probably Orlesian.  That stuff was hit-or-miss to absurd degrees.  
  
Bull’s guts were cramping in the pretext of what he knew were going to be some mean, mean shits, so he figured he’d do something about it _before_ he was camped out by the privy and waiting for it to pass.  
  
“Hey, Stitches,” he asked, trying to sound casual, “you got any of that mint stuff for upset stomachs?”  
  
“You not feeling so hot, ser?” Stitches replied, already looking through his kit.   
  
“Yeah.  Ate something funny last night, I guess, and I’m paying for it now.”  
  
“Ah...”  Stitches sighed, before holding up a flask of something syrupy and pale green.  “This should do the trick.”  
  
Bull drank it down in one, and the cool bite of the mint was thick in his throat.  “Thanks, Stitches.”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
A few hours passed, however, and Bull wasn’t feeling better, so he went back to the Chargers’ house/headquarters/whatever-it-was-that-Adaar-got-for-them for another potion.  “You sure you’re okay there?” Stitches said, hesitating in handing him another draught.  
  
“Yep.  Just fine.”  Bull’s voice was short and roughened with effort.  He felt like there were hot stones in his gut, pressing and grinding together.  It would pass, but _damn_ it was painful.  
  
Stitches paused, halfway to handing him the flask, before he put it back away.  “Humor me for a moment and let me look at something, ser,” he said.  
  
Bull made a growl of a groan.  “Can you just give me the damn medicine?”  
  
Stitches just kept rummaging through his bag, face as placid as ever.  Eventually, he produced his ear-horn.  “Just gonna have a listen to your stomach, all right?”  
  
Bull’s posture, which had been tense with frustration, went oddly loose and weak.  “You don’t… think there’s something wrong with Dorian’s…?”  
  
“Just checking,” Stitches said.  And Bull leaned back and let Stitches listen.  “Well, heartbeat’s good, as far as I can hear.  And I think those are birth-pangs, not bad food.”  
  
“...oh, crap,” Bull said, softly.  
  
“You’ll be fine, ser.”  
  
“Can you get Dorian?”  
  
“No, I’m staying with you,” Stitches said, evenly.  
  
“Someone needs to get Dorian.”  
  
Stitches sighed, and yelled with surprising volume.  “Hey, Krem!  You around?”  
  
Remarkably, not long after, Krem poked his head in the doorway.  “Yeah?”  
  
“Go get the the boyfriend.  Ser’s having his baby.”  
  
“Oh, shit.”  Krem’s eyes went wide.  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.  You hang in there, Chief.”  
  
Bull gave Krem a feeble thumb’s-up, his jaw clenched.  
  
Dorian was a dizzying tornado of worry and excitement when he came back with Krem, both of them very much out of breath.  “Bull, are you all right?”  
  
“I’ve been worse,” Bull said, shrugging.  
  
“You’re not in pain, are you?”  
  
Bull sighed.  “Dorian, of _course_ I’m in pain.”  
  
Dorian smacked his forehead, groaning at himself.  
  
“It’s _fine_ , kadan.  This is _nothing_ compared to the time that Josie got me to try Antivan Sip-Sip,” Bull said, managing a smile.  “I was shitting fire for _days_ after that.  This’ll only be _one_ day, tops.”  
  
“Hopefully,” Stitches said.  
  
“Maker preserve me,” Dorian sighed.  
  
Bull moved back to his and Dorian’s room after that, where, for a while after, it was a matter of waiting.  Bull managed the pain by talking to himself, and to Dorian, and to nothing, almost making a mantra out of it all.  He was naked, on his knees, on a pillow on the floor, propping his head and arms up on the bed.  Dorian sat beside him, and he stayed.  Krem made sure the house stayed quiet, stationing himself in a chair by the door.  
  
“We’re almost through this, big guy, a few hours from now we’ll be laughing about this,” Bull muttered, slowly breathing out.  “Yeah, this is nothing…”  
  
Dorian didn’t go anywhere, keeping his hand on Bull’s, responding when he felt he should.  
  
“You’re gonna be a fucking magnificent father, kadan.”  The phrase snuck in between a quick, hard gasp, and a slow exhale.  “All this I’m going through, and you’re making it _so_ fucking worth it…”  
  
Despite himself, Dorian’s face grew hot.  The rhythm of the words and the roughness of his voice were _just_ a little too… “Yes, Bull, thank you,” he said, quickly.   
  
“Easy, ser,” said Stitches.  “If you gotta bear down, go ahead.”  
  
“Like taking a crap?”  
  
“Sure."  
  
“Yeah.  Easy.  Like taking a crap.”  Bull took several great, quick breaths in and out, before unexpectedly laughing.  “Hey, kadan.  This kid’s a real piece of shit!”  
  
“Bull, really…” Dorian said, feebly, which made Bull laugh a little.  Any little bit helped, he supposed.  
  
Their daughter was born not long after that.  She was screeching like a demon and covered in unmentionable fluids and Dorian was quite convinced she was at once the most disgusting and beautiful thing he had ever seen.  
  
“Ha!  Look at _that!”_ There was a fervor in Bull’s voice usually reserved for high dragons, all laughter and awe, as he held her; she was small enough to fit into his cupped hands, easily.  “Look at _that_.”  
  
“Nice work, ser,” Stitches said, conversationally, cutting the cord with a pair of snips.  
  
“She’s a lot smaller than I thought she’d be.  Maybe that’s from you,” Bull said.  He looked away from her for a moment.  “You okay there, kadan?”  
  
Dorian was hiccuping, not even trying not to cry.  “We made that,” he managed.  
  
“Hah.  Yeah.  We sure did.”  
  
“It’s a little girl, Bull.”  
  
“Yep.  A little girl Pavus.”  
  
“It - she’s really mine?”  
  
“Yes, kadan.”  
  
Stitches, meanwhile, was getting some towels to clean the baby off.  She was quieting down, now, harsh wails shrinking into gentle, fussing murmurs.  “Here, ser.”  
  
“Thanks.”  Bull was so, so gentle as he wrapped the cloth around her body, the folds crossing one over the other in familiar angles.  “Well, I’ve held this little thing for a few months too long.  Your turn.”  
  
“Oh.”  Dorian let Bull put the child in his arms, where she actually took up a decent amount of space.  “Hello there, you,” Dorian said, in a hushed voice.  “It’s… wonderful to finally meet you.”  
  
Bull watched them, resting his head on his arms again, feeling a warmth and satisfaction like that of a job well-done.  But this was so much more, he knew.  
  
And then his gut started cramping again, and he groaned, more annoyed than in pain.  
  
“Bull…?”  There was an awful, unnecessary note of fear in Dorian’s voice.  
  
“No, no, I read about this,” Bull said.  “It’s just the gross crap that’s left over clearing out.”  
  
“Mhm,” said Stitches.  “Afterbirth.  Shouldn’t take too long.”  
  
“I’m _fine_ , Dorian,” Bull said, because he still looked worried, and maybe mildly disgusted.  Bull couldn’t blame him in either case.  “Hey.  Look at that baby.  That’s a damn cute baby, huh?”  
  
“Gets it all from me, I’m sure,” Dorian said, sniffling, his voice breaking a little.  “Oh, _mia mellia.  Mia dulca.”  
  
_ “What’s that?” Bull said.  
  
“ _Tu as mia stellaram, mia bel stellaram_ …”  
  
“I can’t understand a damn thing you’re saying, kadan.”  
  
“Well… fine!  Because I am not talking to you.  I am talking to this… lovely little creature here,” Dorian said.  He wiped at one of his eyes, and broke into a wide, awkward, joyous smile.  “We have a daughter, amatus.”  
  
“Okay, I got _that_ one,” Bull said.  He smiled, and the moment was warm and golden.  
  
Another waning cramp killed the mood entirely.  Bull huffed more than he groaned.  “Stitches, how much longer is this gonna _take?_   I need to get off my knees.”  
  
“You’ll be done when you’re done.”  Stitches had a fresh bundle of towels and a wooden tub for the mess to follow, and was camped out behind Bull.  He looked about as bored as he sounded.  
  
“ _Crap_.”  Bull pressed his head against the mattress and made a straining effort.  “Crap, crap, _crap_.”  
  
Their nameless daughter began fussing as his voice rose, and Dorian bounced her a little to try and calm her as Bull worked, a little uselessly, at making things go faster.  
  
Then, Stitches’ expression changed, and he tilted his head.  “Huh.”  
  
“What’s _huh_?” Bull said.  
  
“So there _were_ two heartbeats.  Okay.”  
  
“Stitches?”  Bull’s voice rose to an angry height, before collapsing into another groan.  
  
And, quite suddenly, there was another baby in the room, this time falling into Stitches’ waiting hands.  It had a husky cry, though softer than the first, and it calmed much more easily.  
  
“Twins,” Dorian said, weakly, his smile turning glassy.  “You’re joking.  Twins.”  
  
“Another girl,” Stitches said.  “Nice work, ser.”  
  
“Next time, would you mind telling people if you _think_ you hear more than one heartbeat?” Bull said, finally getting off his knees.  “That’s usually pretty important.”  
  
“I thought I was just hearing yours, ser,” Stitches said, shrugging.  “Pretty sure you’re not hiding another one in there, though.”  
  
“Well, _that’s_ a relief,” Bull grumbled.  He sighed, heavily, before turning to Dorian.  “...kadan, you okay?”  
  
“You - really need to get out of this habit of yours.  Always surprising me.”  Dorian swallowed, sniffed, smiled.   
  
“I’m sorry, kadan.”  
  
“ _Sorry?_ ” Dorian said.  “Oh, Bull, _no_.  We… we’re going to need another crib, I think!”  Dorian was laughing as he started to cry again.  “Krem _did_ make enough clothes, though, I think!”  
  
Bull’s laughter was genuinely relieved.  “Yeah, probably.”  
  
Dorian sighed.  “Maker, what did I do to deserve this?”  
  
“Don’t look at me,” Bull said.  
  
“Which one of you wants to take this one?” Stitches said, holding the baby out like an offering. He’d bundled her up loosely, but effectively.  
  
“Oh, please, allow me,” Dorian said, and he wiped at his eyes with a hurried motion.  Stitches shrugged and passed her to Dorian, who balanced the twins in the crooks of his arms.  
  
Bull, out of nowhere, began to chuckle.  “Hey, kadan.”  
  
“What?”  Dorian’s voice had gone all soft and dreamy again, and he didn’t look up.  
  
“You really got your hands full, now, don’t you.”  
  
“Mm.”  The pun sailed obliviously past him.  One of the twins, the quiet second-born, yawned, and Dorian gasped.  “Oh!  Oh, Bull, did you see that?  She yawned.”  
  
Bull had probably never seen Dorian in such a state of pure, unworried love before.  And seeing this only made him feel the same, or as close to it as he thought himself capable of.  
  
\--  
  
They named the girls that night, after the mess and fuss was all cleared away.  Bull was exhausted and laid himself out on the whole of the mattress as soon as Stitches had given the all-clear.  Even though Krem was grinning like a child on a feast-day morning when he finally came in, he promised quiet, and followed through.  
  
Dorian set them on Bull’s chest, all swaddled and sleeping, so they could take the beautiful little things in together, set into each other as they knew best.  There was just silence, for a while, until Dorian spoke.  
  
“Are these going to be horns?”  He traced a finger over the bare scalp of the first-born, which was, admittedly, a little lumpier than the other’s.  
  
“Hm?”  Bull sat up just a little, looking more closely.  “Huh.  Actually, _she_ won’t.  But the other one will.”  
  
“You can tell this early?”  
  
“Yeah.  Here, look.”  Bull reached over and gently stroked the forehead of the second-born with his thumb.  “There’s a ridge here, the foundation.  She’ll get ‘em around the time her teeth come in.”  
  
“Then… why not the other one?”  
  
“Your guess is as good as mine.  Maybe it’s the Vint in her.”  Bull kept stroking the second-born’s forehead, sighing.  “Supposed to be good luck, though.”  
  
“Good luck?  Why?”  
  
“Something about… horns being a symbol of… wildness.”  Bull squinted as he searched for the words.  “I don’t know.”  
  
“I didn’t think that qunari even _had_ superstitions,” Dorian said.  “Well, you take what you can get, hm?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Dorian sighed, deeply and happily.  “Which do you think looks more like me?” he said, with a light and playful air.  “Be honest.”  
  
“Uh…”  Bull squinted again.  “Both of them?”  
  
“I think _this_ one,” Dorian continued, laying a hand on the second-born, the one with the horn-buds.  “She has my nose!”  
  
“You think so, huh?” Bull said.  
  
(And though the child was so small, so vaguely and barely-formed, Bull saw what were almost blueprints for her growth on her face, as he was trained to know.  And she really _would_ resemble Dorian, someday.)  
  
(Though the other one, with her bare head, would have the stronger likeness.  Well, Dorian probably didn’t know that.)  
  
“Mm.  Yes.  I thi-ink,” Dorian said, drawing the word out, “I know what I’ll name this one.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?  Tell me.”  
  
“Cordula.  Cordula Pavus.”  
  
Bull sniggered.  “Ka _dan_.”  
  
“What?  What’s so funny?”  
  
“I don’t recall us doing any knotwork when we were trying to get these two started.”  
  
“Vishante _kaffas_ , Bull!  It has nothing to do with - _ropes!_ ” Dorian said, deliciously outraged.  “It - it means ‘little heart,’ I’ll have you know.”  
  
Bull softened his smile.  “Little heart?  Why that?”  
  
“That… name you always call me.  Kadan.  You told me what it meant _ages_ ago and I…”  He sighed, continuing, sounding mildly annoyed.  “Well, how _could_ I forget what it means, with you _saying_ it so much...  
  
“So... Cordula is Tevene for kadan, huh?” Bull said.  
  
“If you must put it so roughly,” Dorian said.  
  
“Well, hey.  It even sounds kind of the same,” Bull said.  “An easy way to tell my many kadans apart, too.”  
  
“Your many kadans…”  Dorian laughed, and it put light in his smile.  “I’m not naming the other one Amata, before you even get started,” he said, pulling himself back together.  
  
“Of course not,” Bull said.  
  
Another proud, happy silence came and went.  
  
“What was that name you came up with that wasn’t a flower, a few weeks ago?  I forgot to write that one down.”  
  
“Wait, you _actually_ kept a list of names?”  
  
“Do you remember or don’t you?” Dorian replied, a little too quickly.  
  
Bull laughed slightly.  “I don’t know.  Something about... bears.  But not dragons.”  
  
“Well, that’s better than nothing…”  Dorian looked up as he thought.  “...ah!  That’s it.  Ursula.”  
  
“Ursula?”  
  
“Little bear, and little heart,” Dorian said, gesturing to the children in turn.  “Might as well have them match, don’t you think?”  
  
“So… you’re giving the bear name to the one that _won’t_ have horns,” Bull said.  
  
“...yes?” Dorian said, sounding genuinely confused.  
  
“...it’s charming,” Bull concluded, warmly.  “They go together nicely.”  
  
Dorian shook his head, a sort of “oh, _you_ ,” expression on his face.  “Let’s sleep on it, shall we?  I’m still not convinced.  But your approval is encouraging.”  
  
“Of course, kadan.”  
  
The third silence fell, and lasted longest.  
  
“Bull?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“...thank you, for this.”  
  
“You don’t need to thank me, Dorian.”  
  
“I know.  But I want to.”  
  
Bull smiled in the warm half-light, feeling heavy and relaxed and exhausted and utterly loved.  “Then you’re welcome, kadan.”  
  
This was how they spent their first night as parents, the night calm and free of clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be writing about little Cordula and Ursula soon, I'm sure! They'll be in their own story for the folks that want to skip the mpreg bits. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
